Beryllium Flowers
by Felidae1
Summary: A scheme by the Fearsome Five leads to a tragic loss, which affects the entire Darkwing family. How will they cope? Due to later chapters, this now has an M rating. Complete
1. Beryllium Flowers: Prologue

Hello, everybody, and welcome to the next entry of my personal A-Z Darkwing fanfic challenge. As for those who have been following my other story, Zenith, no, I have not forgotten about it, but, well, let's just say, my entire backup went down the drains, so I have to rewrite a great amount of the story.

To pass the time, here's a shorter, darker story, which I hope you like.

Enjoy, and don't forget to R&R!

Disclaimer: I don't own one single bit in this, except for the plot. All rights are Tad Jones and Disney, without any financial profit whatsoever

Warnings: T for some graphic details and character death

Summary: A scheme by the Fearsome Five leads to a tragic loss, which affects the entire Darkwing family. How will they cope?

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 ** _Beryllium Flowers_**

At the age of nine, Gosalyn Waddlemeyer met her hero and foster father Darkwing Duck.

Only a quarter year later, she made her debut as Quiverwing Quack, much to her father's dismay. He did agree to let her help him on one more case, but that had been purely coincidental.

At the age of ten, her father finally decided to properly tutor her into becoming a crime fighter.

At the age of fourteen, Darkwing officially introduced Quiverwing Quack as his protégée, Launchpad still retaining his position as the vigilante's sidekick and partner.

On her sixteenth birthday, Drake declared, he could send her out on missions with her mother, Morgana Mallard-Macawber, as backup.

At the age of eighteen, Quiverwing was working solo.

Five month to her nineteenth birthday, she lost her father in battle.

Two years later, Darkwing Duck returned to the scene.

And took revenge.

 _Prologue_

It was a trap.

They knew it, even before Negaduck had finished his speech on national TV.

Eight hundred billion dollars, or he would sell the key codes for the launch missiles to the highest bidder.

The amount of the ransom was so ridiculously high, everybody knew that it was but a farce. It was not as if Negaduck could have used them to actually control or even launch the missiles. By themselves, the codes were but a jumble of useless algorithms.

However, in the wrong hands and according mainframe -such as F. . had at their dispense -they meant not only complete supremacy over the country, but a global threat as well.

And now all this power nested in the hand of a nefarious criminal master mind in the shape of a pen drive barely the size of an eraser.

It had been his ultimate tour de force.

For years, Negaduck had observed and spied on the military base, using the powers of the other Fearsome Five to gather all the required information.

Be it Liquidator hiding in a water cooler, the indoor pool or the major's aquarium, Bushroot manipulating the trees and shrubs freckled across the camp as spies or Megavolt using his molecular structure disruptor to use the wiring of the building as his personal highway into every mainframe; Negaduck had made certain that not one thing happening on the base escaped his watchful eye.

He had still committed the occasional caper, but always made sure to make it back safe and sound. Really, his crimes were more of a diverting means.

Quackerjack, however, had been the main provider; committing bank robberies and stealing foods and goods for his teammates -as they were.

They had established their subterranean hideout on the outskirts of , next to a tower pole. The electromagnetic field surrounding it scrambled all in- and outgoing signals, making them save from scanners or drones. Even the transport system had been under earth; parallel to the canalisation, Liquidator had smoothed out a tunnel, which Quackerjack's living dentures had created.

About an acre in size, the entire complex had been littered with sensors, which had been calibrated to the biorhythms of the Fearsome Five. Anyone who did not adjust to the settings would have fallen prone to Quackerjack's devious traps.

Painstakingly, quietly, with an ungodly amount of patience, the Fearsome Five had dismantled layer for layer the secrets of the military base, until they had known every single member, from the General to the apprentice of the maintenance crew, on an intimate basis.

Exercise schedules, secret meetings, every little movement had been observed and recorded; the blueprints of the entire compound copied and swapped into the villains' hard drives.

Finally, after nigh on six years, they leapt into action.

Bushroot used a devious pine to attack the chief engineer and head of security, stealing the targeting codes from this one's very hand.

Needless to say, the entire national defence department ground to a halt; without these codes, without the exe files to start the various trajectory re-calculators and spoiler elevator controllers, the missiles were useless. Of course, backups and such existed, but without the chief engineer's clearing, who was currently in a coma, there was only so much the defence department could do.

Even if they had changed all the codes, it would have taken weeks, if not months, to rewrite the entire mass of programs.

Time they didn't have, seeing as two days later the Fearsome Five made their ransom call.

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 _And there we go; a little hokey, I admit, but it's just setting the mood for the rest. Chapter one should be up in a couple of days, so stay tuned_


	2. Darkest Dawn

Back with chapter one, and it will take a while before chapter three will be up. Don't worry, though; I try to have this story finished and posted by the end of the month. Maybe. Hopefully +crosses fingers+

Enjoy, and don't forget to R&R!

Disclaimer: I don't own one single bit in this except for the plot. All rights are Tad Jones and Disney, without any financial profit whatsoever  
Warnings: PG-13 for some graphic details and character death  
Summary: A scheme by the Fearsome Five leads to a tragic loss, which affects the entire Darkwing family. How will they cope?

DWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDW

Beryllium Flowers

l _Darkest dawn_

"Oh..my..gosh..!" whispered Megavolt.  
The other Fearsome Five were too stunned to even nod their heads in agreement.  
None, not even Negaduck, could have imagined this outcome. Scarcely four hours after he had declared the price for the missile codes, everybody, and that meant _everybody,_ who was somebody in the Who's Who of villainy, came marching into St. Canard.  
First and foremost was of course F.O.W.L., then various delegations of Beagle Boys, several mobs, power-hungry dictators, high ranking army officials of all colours and nationalities, plus a few moneymen who wanted to reclaim the prize for the 'good cause' and thus polish up their portfolio.  
And then, of course, there were the federalies.  
Since the entire city had been put under siege, it was swarming with every thinkable(and a few unknown) kind of law enforcement representative.

To call it a mere fight would be an insult to those who suffered through what followed the moment the first blow struck blood.  
Like a dambreach the opposing forces clashed upon one another; everyone trying to gain the upper hand and thus control of the situation, unaware that by doing so, they just foddered the escalation. Whereas the army, SHUSH and police divisions crossed swords with FOWL, the Beagle Boys and other militant forces, Darkwing went right for the price.  
With a devious roar, he forced his trusty Ratcatcher up a steep ramp leading upon a highrise construction site. From there he could easily make out Quackerjack, Megavolt and Negaduck on the roof of City Hall through his spyglass. Neither Bushroot nor Liquidator were in sight, but that didn't matter.  
The most important thing was retrieving the tiny briefcase Negaduck was clutching in his left hand, which obviously held the goods.

Negaduck scowled.  
"This is definitely getting out of hands. Let's scram and look for a safer-"  
"I am the terror that flaps in the night!"  
A collective groan escaped the three villains.  
"I am the avalanche that collides with the speed train of crime!"  
Calmly, the Fearsome Three reached for their respective guns and pointed them at the tuft of blue smoke.  
"I am -right behind you!" tweeted Darkwing.  
"What-?" croaked Negaduck, but the vigilante had already knocked over Quackerjack and was currently pinning down Megavolt. A somersault was the one thing that saved him from Negaduck's bullet, but Quackerjack's stun gun took out Megavolt.  
"One down, two more to go!" bellowed Darkwing. Negaduck narrowed his eyes, then gave a malicious smirk.  
"Oh, really? Count again, dimwit."

The swap of the poison ivy vine swatted the crime fighter against the wall of the opposite building. A wave of icy water washed him off and down into one of the abandoned sidestreets. Coughing and gasping for air, Darkwing lay on the floor, trying to get up- just to be entangled in a coil of vines. Struggling, he turned to where Bushroot and Liquidator stood, who wore victorious smirks on their features.  
"Well, if it isn't our dear friend Darkwing Duck, passing by to say hello. Or should I say-passing on?"  
A vicious snarl crossed the green-tinted face of the former botanic engineer, as the coils tightened around the vigilante and-  
"Yikes!" yelped Bushroot, as the flame arrow severed the hold on Darkwing and burnt the sensitive tissue of the vine. Unison, both criminals gazed at the origin of the shot...  
Tall, elegant, the picture of grace and destruction, Morgana stood there, her left hand cradling what seemed to be a ball of miniscule lightning bolts. Green, blue lined with purple, her cape swaying in the wind, Quiverwing Quack had taken position to the sage's right, her next arrow already aiming for the duck-turned-plant's beak. "Just gimme a reason, broccoli-head", growled the redhead.  
Liquidator, turning into a blue serpent, made his way through the drainpipe towards the two females, hollering,  
"Is death beautiful today? Does your fatal doom happen to be a femme fatale?"  
Morgana coolly watched as the drainpipe wobbled and creaked under the pressure of the up-shooting liquid villain, then tossed the ball of electricity into the catch, simultaneously sealing it shut with a spell. With no other escape route, Liquidator was practically steamed alive -in a manner of speaking- and what little leaked out at the bottom, was magically scooped into a glass bottle.  
Bushroot, too occupied in the happenings, didn't see the arrow until it was too late. The gas canister exploded right in front of his eyes, emitting a cloud of condensed smog and herbicide. Two gasps later, the duck-turned- _Lycium Nycanthropus_ was out like a light.

Darkwing untwined himself from the remaining withering vines and gave his girls a thumbs up. As bothersome as it was at times, he more than often cherished the magical bond Morgana had linked their hearts together with. Not only could they find each other, never mind the distance nor circumstances, but it also made it easier to understand one another without using words.  
Particularly Darkwing, who still had difficulties expressing his emotions, was grateful for that.  
He stared at the women for a moment, and Morgana nodded. Quiverwing glanced at her, even as Morgana built up a telepathic connection with the younger duckette, explaining her Darkwing's plan. The heroine smirked, then unveiled a wristband under her sleeve and yelled;  
"Q to L; codewords: Let's get dangerous!"  
Moments later, the familiar roar of the upgraded Thunderquack split the heavens, ready to pick up Bushroot and Liquidator. Morgana made sure the two villains were safely boxed and bound, before teleporting them into the specially designed containment unit, the Thunderquack had been equipped with.

Negaduck and his other companions, distracted by the appearance of the jet, didn't notice Darkwing slip into City Hall, where they had established themselves. Even as the leader of the nefarious group screamed orders and obscenities, and removed the pen drive from the casket for better mobility, Quiverwing positioned herself on the opposite rooftop, shouting;  
"Last chance, you bozos! Give up the codes and surrender peacefully, or it's your tailfeathers on the line!"  
Megavolt scratched his head in confusion.  
"But I don't have any tailfea-"  
"ENOUGH!" roared Negaduck, his eyes shooting daggers at the young crime fighter,  
"I've had it with you, you annoying little pipsqueak! First dunkhead ruins my plans, and now this upstart wannabe, goody two-shoes bimbo wants to crank my style?" Literally fuming, the fiend yelled;  
"What the hell do you think you're doing here, kid? Little girls should stay at home with their dolls, not go around playing Robin Hood! I don't care if Darkwing trained you, that knob couldn't even get a puppy housebroken, leave alone teach anyone any useful fighting skills!"  
"I beg to differ, Negaduck!" came a voice from behind them, followed by the splashing of water and the all too familiar sound of Megavolt short-circuiting. Quackerjack barely escaped the electrical assault and Negaduck took a sideways leap to avoid getting fried.  
And jumped right into Darkwing's path.  
In a lightning quick move, the Masked Mallard kicked the tiny device out of Negaduck's hand, punched him in the stomach, grabbed the pen drive and rushed past the baffled Quackerjack. Reaching for his trusty gas gun, he armed it with the grapple hook, even as he threw himself off the edge. A faint whirr, a satisfying clank, and Darkwing Duck was safely swinging through the air towards the opposite building.

The cacophonous blast, with which Quackerjack's bazooka went off, resounded in the ears of everyone in a five block radius. Only this time, the weapon was not loaded with banana creampies, but live ammo. The modified, down-graded M9 grenade unerringly steered towards Darkwing and exploded a mere two feet behind his back.

Pain; blinding, all-engulfing pain as he never could have imagined before, raced from his rear ribcage throughout his entire body, paralysing and blinding him, even as he lost his grip on the cord. With devastating force, the vigilante hit the roof of the house three stories lower; his own momentum sending him hurling and skidding across the tiled floor, before he came to a rest.

Quiverwing, who had hitched a ride with the Thunderquack to aid her father, saw the hero fall from the sky like the proverbial stone. She had no time to shoot a web arrow or even a saving line, because at that very moment, Quackerjack aimed for the jet and planted a missile right beneath its beak. The armour held, but both Launchpad and Quiverwing were thoroughly shaken, as the sleek jet performed an involuntary barrel roll, almost nicking the corner of a high rise.

Something felt..wrong; something was not how it should be. Darkwing blinked through weary eyes, trying to move his lips, but to no avail. He saw the pen drive lying next to him, but it could have as well been lying on the moon.  
His thoughts were foggy, mingled, sluggish; yet, with what little strength was left in him, Darkwing managed to move his left hand and reach for the small device. His fingers, bloodied and partly broken, scraped over the concrete, leaving crimson trails on the ground. Finally, with a faint wheeze, the vigilante's fingers closed around the stick. Tired, his eyes drooped, water seeping from them, staining the purple mask.  
'I'm sorry,' he thought, 'I know, I promised..'  
Again, his beak moved; this time, a barely audible gasp escaping him.  
"Morg'...Gos..."  
His eyes closed.

Morgana, feeling the searing pain as the emotional connection between her and Darkwing was severed, roared in agony. In the wink of an eye she had summoned herself behind Negaduck and Quackerjack, hovering in the air above and raining hail and lightning bolts upon them, before locking them into a large, trapezoid box, that bore an eerie resemblance to an Iron Maiden.  
The outraged screams of the two encased criminals swiftly turned into pleading wails, when the makeshift prison began to heat, until it glowed red.  
Quiverwing didn't bother looking what her mother did to the Fearsome Two, but instead roped her way down from the Thunderquack to the roof.

He was dead.  
She knew it, the moment her eyes set on his unmoving body.  
Darkwing lay there, so still, so still; his cape almost torn in half, what was left of his back a blackened, bloodied mass of flesh and cloth littered with shrapnel. Miraculously, he still wore his hat, as if the fedora had refused to disband with its owner in his final moments.  
Quiverwing tried to swallow her tears, but couldn't help the pained sob that escaped her lips.  
"Oh dad", she rasped, standing there, unable, unwilling to move closer.  
All around her, the battle slowly, but unerringly came to a halt, as the authorities seized control of the situation, but the young crime fighter only heard the flapping of the Masked Mallard's cape in the wind.  
Darkwing was lying face-down, his left arm outstretched, his head resting on his right shoulder. A couple of feathers, torn from his body, danced in the up-draft; their stark contrast to the grim sight jolting Quiverwing out of her trance.  
Shaken, she hurried to her father's side. Dropping to her knees, she hefted him around, carefully holding him in her arms. He looked so calm, so serene, as if he were in a fitful slumber, having the sweetest of dreams.

His left hand was still holding the pen drive.

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 _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, here, here* hands over tissues* But I told you this was gonna happen, right? I mean, that's what the summary and disclaimer is there for, ne?  
Factoid, This story was inspired by a sketch I once drew, of an adult Quiverwing and a Morgana in full sage-gear on a rooftop. Sadly, the quality of the drawing is so bad, I can't scan it. However, there is a companion piece of the last scene over at deviantart  
_

 _felidae5/Beryllium-Flowers-490008577_

 _Check it out, tell me what you think and hopefully, be back in a couple of days for the next chapter_

 _P.S: Yes, it_ is _possible to shoot an M9 grenade with a bazooka; I looked it up_


	3. Blinding Darkness

And here we go; chapter two of this sad tale -again, I'm still trying to get this done before the end of the month. So far, I'm still on schedule, but who knows what might happen...  
Still, I hope you like this little story of mine so far, and be assured that I will be back with more.

Enjoy, and don't forget to R&R!

Disclaimer: I don't own one single bit in this except for the plot. All rights are Tad Jones and Disney, without any financial profit whatsoever  
Warnings: PG-13 for some graphic details and character death  
Summary: A scheme by the Fearsome Five leads to a tragic loss, which affects the entire Darkwing family. How will they cope?

DWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDW

 **Beryllium Flowers**

ll _Blinding darkness_

They buried him as Drake Mallard among the other dozens of victims, who had lost their lives in the infamous war.  
Even S.H.U.S.H.'S former director J. P. Gander and his successor Grizzlykoff had come to pay their respects; seeing as how many a good agent had lost their life in the fight, their presence was justified.  
J.P. Gander handed the medal of honour to Gosalyn in a secretive moment. Morgana, who stood next to her, was lost in a grieving trance; her usually lucid green eyes dull and empty, even as tears rolled down her pale cheeks in an endless flow. To her, mortal honours meant nothing any more.  
Though there had been video footage of him being shot, no one else knew exactly how bad the damage had been and if or when Darkwing would recover from his injuries. It was best to leave the criminal element as well as the citizens of St. Canard guessing about his death.

Morgana Mallard-Macawber didn't even blink, as she heard the approaching footsteps. As the person drew closer and finally came to stand next to her, the sorceress inhaled deeply and, fighting back the tears, rose her head.  
"Launchpad's back at home. I gave him some sedatives, so he can finally get some rest," muttered Gosalyn.  
Tired, almond-shaped emerald eyes closed in concern and gratitude.  
"He hasn't slept since -it happened," rasped Morgana, clasping her batwing-leather handbag in her gloved hand.  
"Neither have you, mom", answered Gosalyn, letting her eyes roam unseeing over the marble plate reading  
'Drake Mallard, beloved husband, father and best friend 1963-2001'.  
"Neither have any of us" she concluded, swallowing hard.  
One by one, tears quilled from her eyes to roll over her cheeks and fall in an endless string of pearls on the flowers placed upon the grave.  
Morgana had no more tears left to cry, but her left hand, the one which had placed the deep crimson rose on her husband's grave, clenched in barely restrained fury.

Launchpad had taken it harder than many thought possible. Starting off as a fanboy and going from sidekick to being an equal partner, him and Drake had over the years developed a bond way past friendship. He had been Darkwing's trusted war mate and Drake's closest confidant. He had stood by him neither hail, rain nor storm, and in return, Drake had given him something, the pilot had barely ever experienced: complete, blind and unadulterated trust.  
And the brother he never had.

"So?"  
Neither of her remaining family members answered. Gosalyn sighed. It had been two months, and St. Canard had still not really recovered from its ordeal.  
Some argued, that it never would.  
Again, Gosalyn sighed, then rose and, reaching for her bow, donned her father's cape, stating;  
"Multiple counts for espionage, felonious attack, battery, second degree murder, theft, high treason, endangerment of national security...Negaduck isn't going to see the light of day again. Quackerjack got eight times life, Liquidator five times, Megavolt six and Bushroot three."  
She drew a deep breath.  
"For all it's worth, at least justice has been served."  
"Will it bring back my Drake?" murmured Morgana. Launchpad gave a single, pained sob, and Gosalyn- pardon, Quiverwing- lowered her head, eyelids hiding the upwelling tears.  
There's nothing we can do, mom", she whispered. Swallowing hard, she added;  
"I miss him too."  
Morgana stared at a point beyond the horizon; the view which their headquarters over Audubon Bridge provided.  
"Maybe there is", she hushed, a strange light making her green eyes shine with just the slightest spark of hope.  
Launchpad and Quiverwing blinked at her, uncomprehendingly, then Gosalyn inhaled sharply.  
"Mom, you're not seriously thinking about resurrection, are you? That's not going to work in a million years!"  
Morgana's jaw tightened.  
"There are other methods".

 _twenty-one weeks later_

The machine beeped; tiny blue bulbs blinking in rhythm, then going dark. Sleek and black, the cover dimly reflected the bystanders' faces gathered near the device.  
Morgana looked over to the scientist, some Dr. Sarah Bellum; a tall, pretty canary, with a shock of jet-black hair tied in a ponytail and large round glasses. She knew her to be one of Darkwing's associates and the inventor of many of the technological devices, the Masked Mallard used to test.  
And, she was also the only one Morgana trusted with her ...project.  
With a faint swooshing noise, the lid of the container opened, both women frozen in mid-motion.  
Slowly, hesitantly, a hand rose from within, grasped the edge of the cask, thus steadying the uprising figure within. Cold, slick fluids dripped from the beak, matted the feathers and coated the entire body with a thin layer of sheen.  
Large eyes under finely chiselled brows blinked uncomprehendingly, unfocused, then swept the room with a dislocated glance.  
Morgana gasped mutely. Dr. Bellum bit her lip.  
"It lives," she hushed incredulous, as the body attempted to clamber out of the tub.  
Morgana rushed forward with a readied, warm towel, wrapping it around the staggering person.  
She was rewarded with a shaky, grateful smile, as she hushed;  
"Welcome back, darling."

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 _Is it me, or has my writing gone hokey? I guess I am out of practice; because this read so much better when I first penned it down..._

 _Again, tell me what you think, and I'll be back in a couple of days with the next chapter_


	4. Beyond the dark

Chapter three; I'm sorry for the delay. Fact is, I'm not sure anybody is still reading this, but I will keep posting anyway. More tears, more pain and a plan taking form...but read for yourself.

Enjoy, and don't forget to R&R!

Disclaimer: I don't own one single bit in this except for the plot. All rights are Tad Jones and Disney, without any financial profit whatsoever Warnings: PG-13 for some graphic details and character death Summary: A scheme by the Fearsome Five leads to a tragic loss, which affects the entire Darkwing family. How will they cope?

DWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDW

 **Beryllium Flowers**

lll _Beyond the dark  
_

 __Launchpad had left them.  
Neither one of the women could really blame him for that; the things within the house, the hideout, the entire city of St. Canard, held too many precious memories for the distraught pilot to handle.  
He had taught the two women everything he could, everything he knew, and when he was done, he said goodbye and returned to Duckburg.  
He still wrote, texted, even called regularly, but it was quite apparent, that he would never set foot in the metropolis again.  
At first, Quiverwing had been slightly hurt about his departure, but soon came to understand, that there was no point in having a crime fighter around, who had no more fight left in him.  
Plus, he hadn't really...approved of their little _experiment_. And even though it was nowhere near finished, he had not wanted to wait for the outcome.  
Appalled, he had watched as their plans were hatched, witnessed the development, spent endless hours in the laboratory...and hated every minute of it.  
So, on a beautiful autumn day, underneath a velvet blue sky, three broken hearts bade farewell to each other, pledging loyalty and unbreakable friendship.  
Launchpad had boarded the plane at St. Canard International Airport, turned at the door, waved once more and was gone.  
He left the Thunderquack behind, because despite its size, it would never fill the hole in his heart.

 _eight months later_

"It doesn't fit."  
The voice had dropped considerably. Even though Morgana had expected it to, she still flinched at the slight gravely undertone in the words. Sighing, she rose and, pulling the fabric in several directions, replied;  
"I know, but I'm working on it. Both your chest and shoulders have broadened, since you started the new workout, and there's only so much I can do."  
Again, she stretched the cloth, pinned the edges together with practised ease and sewed everything up with a dozen firm, rapid stitches.  
"There. Better?"  
Experimentally, her opposite flexed their arms and back, then nodded.  
"Perfect. I must admit, I never got the hang of this, myself. Oh well, not all of us can be decent, docile housewives, can we?"  
Morgana smiled, as Dr. Bellum turned around with a cheeky grin. Then the scientist grew serious again. Bracing herself, she looked at the other side of the room. Once more, she shrugged more comfortably into her training suit and muttered,  
"Now for lesson two..."

 _day 712 after the siege_

"What do you mean, they escaped?!"  
Paling, the maximum security supervillain prison director shrank in his seat, staring at the enraged Quiverwing towering over him.  
Gulping, he managed;  
"Yes, well, you see, the Liquidator..well, we put him on kitchen duty, you know, doing the dishes and-"  
"You let a mad, water-manipulating, liquid felon with a PHD in water physics into your kitchen, and didn't expect it to blow up in your face?" growled the heroine.  
By now, the director was positively shivering in fear, wiping his brow with a handkerchief.  
"Well, yes, you know, he was on parole -sub-intern parole- for good behaviour and, well, we thought -figured, the kitchen, you know..."  
Gosalyn gave him a level gaze.  
"Lemme guess, he flushed himself right down the drain, reentered through the sewage system or something the likes, then transformed himself into a giant mallet and smashed down the wall!"  
The director wiggled uncomfortably, pulling at his collar.  
"Ehm, not quite; he stole several industrial detergents, mixed them together and poured them into the ventilation system. Once he could be sure everybody was dazzled, he used the hammer trick you described."  
For several moments they just eyed each other, the Quiverwing pushed herself off the desk and snarled;  
"As of this moment, this case is no longer in your hands." 

_three weeks later_

Negaduck was on the run.  
After they escaped, the Fearsome Five had split up in order to heighten their chances of avoiding incarceration.  
Negaduck, being the leader, was of course target number one, but had so far escaped arrest.  
But now he was being hunted down by a shadow, a phantom, who with an uncanny certainty almost always knew where he was.  
Such as now.  
The villain clambered up a fire ladder to the rooftop, then scurried towards the staircase exit.  
He was almost on top, when something breezed past his head and exploded mere feet away in a spray of blue lightning and debris.  
Cursing, Negaduck climbed the last few steps, swiftly made towards the opposite roof and shot a glare over his shoulder.  
Flinty blue eyes widened to almost comical proportions, when his pursuer stepped out of the shadow.  
Purple mask, jacket and pants, gloved hands clasping one end of a dark cape, respectively the grip of a mean-looking gun, the vigilante breathed an aura of serious business.  
"You..?" Negaduck's voice left him. In the blink of an eye Darkwing had overcome the distance between them and growled,  
"Surprised at the new get-up? Well, after our last meeting some -alterations needed to be made."  
Negaduck tried to make sense of the situation, the smooth tone and mock grin accompanying Darkwing's words barely concealing this one's grim mood.  
"But-but we thought, you were dead!" rasped the villain. Darkwing smirked.  
"I was, when we arrived at S.H.U.S.H. headquarters. According to their reports, the surgeons worked twenty hours straight, just to keep me alive. I spent five months in an artificial coma, and another five just relearning to walk, talk and bathe myself."  
This time, the grimness shone through. Negaduck blanched, as the trigger was pulled back.  
For a split-second, there was a desperate, crazed glint in Darkwing's eyes, one Negaduck recognized.  
"No!" he screamed, launching forwards.  
The gun went off. 

DWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDW

 _And that's all she wrote, folks *ducks behind desk* Just kidding, that was merely the preliminaries to the second part, so stay tuned. Oh, and there's a pic of the last scene, I might considering putting up, too(whenever it's done)_


	5. Beryllium Flowers: And darkness within

Chapter four, and first and foremost I would like to thank Faith, who, true to her name, stayed with me.  
Again, thank you for both your reviews and support as well as the advice. Even though it doesn't seem so, I am perfectly aware of that particular character trait, but I just love to play with peoples' expectations.  
Still, it's always delightful to have a supportive and critical reader. So, consider this chapter dedicated to you, even if it's only a mini-chapter^^

Enjoy, and don't forget to R&R!

Disclaimer: I don't own one single bit in this except for the plot. All rights are Tad Jones and Disney, without any financial profit whatsoever  
Warnings: PG-13 for some graphic details and character death  
Summary: A scheme by the Fearsome Five leads to a tragic loss, which affects the entire Darkwing family. How will they cope?

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Beryllium Flowers 

lV _And darkness within_

He had thought, he was safe.  
He had thought, hiding in the sedimentation tank of down-town St. Canard's sewage treatment plant would keep him from being detected.  
But he had found him.  
God help him, he had found him.  
Unerringly,the vigilante had lured him into one of the Imhoff-tanks filled with all the putrid waste of the city.  
The felon managed to make it into one of the secondary clarifiers, but was exhausted after fighting his way through the thick, putrid goo.  
And that's when his enemy had struck; by pouring a bag full of instant cement into the bin, solidifying his body.  
Liquidator squirmed. He twisted, bent and bucked, but to no avail. Tiredly, he glanced at his captor.  
"Have you been feeling out of sorts lately? Did you just meet a ghost from the past? If so, then- HEEEELPP!" he shouted.  
Darkwing threw some plaster of paris into the ex-water salesman's face. Immediately, this one's movements grew even more sluggish.  
Liquidator growled, but due to his consistency, all that came out was a sloppy burble.  
With a smug grin, the vigilante circled the foe, removing a sponge the size of a notebook from inside the cape. Pressing it against Liquidator's body, Darkwing rasped;  
"No one can hear you, Bud. And even if, no one would care."  
Large, watery orbs pleadingly trained in on narrowed green ones. A look of utter confusion flickered across Liquidator's face, when he muttered;  
"Yo'bl eyebls.."  
"Implants", explained Darkwing, adding more pressure to the sponge,  
"The impact with the roof apparently damaged a great part of my ocular lobes. Now they're part real, part bionic."  
Rising his head and looking Liquidator directly into the eyes, the vigilante growled,  
"And I see as good as ever."  
Darkwing let go of the sponge, effectively pulling in every last drop of the villain's body.

"This will not hold him for long", stated Morgana, as she watched the bread-box sized, industrial strength sponge being encased within quick-drying cement. Darkwing gave a knowing shrug.  
"It's not supposed to. There's more to come", the vigilante stated, as they watched the square block being drivelled out of its mould.  
Grapplers took hold of Liquidator's solidified form, placed it into what looked like the lower half of a giant plastic pumpkin, then set the other half on top of it.  
The two halves were welded together, then dipped into an oily, steaming black liquid. Morgana cocked a brow.  
"Is that-?" Darkwing nodded.  
"Tire rubber. Once it hardens, we will add another three coatings, before locking it away into a man-sized plastic egg. It will take him months, if not years, to break through every single barrier."  
The mage frowned.  
"That doesn't sound like too harsh a verdict."  
Darkwing gave a cruel grin.  
"We are talking sensation deprivation here, Morgana. These shells are light and sound proof; there will only be rubber, rubble and plastic to keep Liquidator company  
for a good, long time. No fresh air, no fresh water, just quiet, stale, endless darkness."  
Again, an elegant brow was raised, this time in acknowledgement. 

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 _Again, sorry for the shortness of this chapter, the future ones will be longer, honest. In terms of the formatting; I tend to clump my texts together because, more often than not, they describe consecutive or simultaneous happenings. Not only does it make it easier for me to see if the flow of the story works, but I personally also find it rather distracting, when every single sentence has a new paragraph.  
It's fine in a poetry book, a necessity in a play and imperative in an instruction manual, but for a full-fledged story..?_


	6. Dark whispers

My sincere apologies for the delay; I really wanted to have this up and done and finished Monday, but the entire week was just crazy.  
But, I figure that I might manage to finish the story by the end of this week. So, to make up for the wait, here we go; to for the price of one.  
Chapter five features everybody's favourite electrically charged rodent -what terrors await him?

Enjoy, and don't forget to R&R!

Disclaimer: I don't own one single bit in this except for the plot. All rights are Tad Jones and Disney, without any financial profit whatsoever  
Warnings: PG-13 for some graphic details and character death  
Summary: A scheme by the Fearsome Five leads to a tragic loss, which affects the entire Darkwing family. How will they cope? 

DWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDW

Beryllium Flowers 

V _Dark whispers_

Coming to, Megavolt found himself in a giant glass tube, surrounded by water.  
There was a comfortable bed, a built-in radio and fridge -both water-powered- and even a nicely designed bathroom, separated by opaque walls.  
"What is this? Where am I? Hey, let me out of here!" he yelled, banging on the meter-thick, clear walls.  
He felt a tingling sensation run through his body, and immediately felt weaker.  
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a tall, curvy figure approach him. He shook his head to clear it, even as Morgana smiled;  
"You are a voltage regulator, a living fuse, if you will. You are here to keep the power flow of St. Canard's underwater power plant stable. The floor, the walls, everything you touch will automatically help calibrate and stabilise the condensers."

Megavolt's jaw dropped. Baffled, as if seeing her for the very first time, the electrically charged rodent stared at the beautiful witch before him.  
Morgana gave a hint of a smile, then turned towards the door.  
It was not the only opening of its kind; but the second one was far smaller; hardly wide enough to fit in a car tire and equipped with a conveyor belt.  
"And if you think of escaping, don't even try it. You are sixty meters below the ocean surface; even if you would not out-shortage yourself, you would drown."  
Megavolt sputtered and burbled in protest, then squeaked indignantly;  
"Wha-how-how dare you! Do you have any idea, who I am? Or what I can do to you or this place? Why, with one single snap of my fingers I can supercharge this entire cage and blow it to smithereens! Watch!"  
He attempted to summon the entirety of his powers -and was rewarded with a mock of a tiny spark.

Flabbergasted, he watched the small flicker fall to the ground, where it was instantly absorbed. Again, the villain felt weaker than before his outburst.  
Morgana gave a small, humourless chuckle.  
"Really, Megavolt, did you think we have not taken something like that into consideration? Every time you use your powers, it goes directly into the condensers. All you are doing, is weakening yourself. And before you think of rewiring this place and drawing the power into yourself..well..have you ever seen what happens to a blowfish, if you try to fill it with ten gallons of water? It's not a pretty sight. Speaking of which-"  
She shot a small lightning ball in his face, blinding him momentarily, and swiftly stepped into the adjunct tunnel.  
Moving backwards, she added,  
"Oh, and this entrance will be sealed shut as soon as I'm gone. Meaning, there will be no visitors. If you try to escape through this tunnel, it will be flooded, so don't even try. Same goes for the food hatch."  
Megavolt eyed the tubular constructions closely. True enough; in intervals, the walls were interspersed with what looked like glass sliding doors.  
He flinched and took a step back, when the small conveyor belt came alive.  
A tray was placed in the small corridor, carrying a glass of orange juice, a plate of cookies and the newest edition of "Volts 'n' Watts". With a barely audible whirr, the tray moved towards Megavolt, Morgana's voice echoing right inside his head;  
"Whatever you need, whatever wish you have, save for any and all electronic or electric devices, you can write on a paper slip and send it back. If you wish for the newest couture or the latest in exquisite cuisine, we will see that you receive it. Just don't ask about a TV or the likes. Even the radio is only here as a mere token of goodwill. We will try to make your stay here as comfortable as possible. But don't be fooled;"  
the stern note in Morgana's voice made Megavolt rise his head,  
"for all luxury put aside, this is still a prison."  
And just like that, Morgana's voice was gone.

Lost, confused, Megavolt gazed around the glass container. His eyes fell on the cooler. Opening it, he found some fruits, several bottles of Coo Koo Cola, water, and -his favourite light bulb.  
A flicker of hope, mixed with a great amount of relief and gratitude, flashed in the rodent's eyes, as he carefully pried the bulb from its hold and closed the fridge. He walked over to his bed, sat down and held the bulb to his cheek.

Around him, the only sounds to be heard was the swishing of the currents. 

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 _It may seem like a considerably more human verdict, as opposed to what happened to Negaduck and Liquidator, until one imagines having to spend the rest of their lives like this. Then it's simply heart wrenching. As to what I have in store for the others? You'll just have to read to find out._


	7. Buried within the dark

Chapter six, and as far as I'm concerned, by Sunday this story should be up in its entirety. I hope, you liked what you've read so far and will stick with me to the end.  
And now, without any further ado, Quackerjack's fate!  
Enjoy, and don't forget to R&R!

Disclaimer: I don't own one single bit in this except for the plot. All rights are Tad Jones and Disney, without any financial profit whatsoever  
Warnings: PG-13 for some graphic details and character death  
Summary: A scheme by the Fearsome Five leads to a tragic loss, which affects the entire Darkwing family. How will they cope?

DWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDW

 **Beryllium Flowers**

Vl _Buried within the dark_

"How good are you with hypnosis and hallucinations?" asked Darkwing. Tapping her chin, Morgana replied;  
"Well, it depends on the person's mental condition and willpower. Why, what do you have in mind?"  
Darkwing's eyes turned darker.  
"Have you ever heard of-" the crime-fighter's voice lowered to an almost inaudible whisper. Morgana flinched, then gasped,  
"What? Darkwing, you're not thinking of setting that demon free, are you?"  
The vigilante gave a vivid head-shake.  
"No, but I know for certain that Quackerjack is terrified of him. If you could make him believe that he _has_ returned..."  
Morgana's expression hardened.  
"I understand, what you mean."

Quackerjack awoke in a vast expanse of blurred white.  
He blinked several times, and the expanse shrank down to a room complete with a small adjunct bathroom, built-in plasma TV and a thick, inviting mattress, fluffy pillows and soft comforters doubling as bed. Everything, except for a single spot, was held in various shades of white; enough to keep the room bright, but not blindingly so.  
Confused, Quackerjack's eyes trained in on the multicoloured item -and his blood froze.  
Trembling, back-pedalling as far as the wall would allow, he scurried away from the infamous box, but it was too late. The container vibrated and shook, then a soft, velvety voice murmured,  
"Will you play with me?"  
The mad toymaker's eyes widened, his beak opening in a soundless scream.  
In a cloud of smoke, Paddywhack clambered out of his prison and stretched languidly. He looked around, then let his gaze fall on Quackerjack.  
"I know you," he stated, moving closer to the prisoner, "we used to have a lot of fun. Until you _crossed_ me!"  
Paddywhack's eyes had taken on an unearthly red glow, even as his drawl turned into a snarl.  
With a choked squeal, Quackerjack slipped between the monster's twiggy legs and raced to the other side of the room. Banging against the door, he screamed,  
"Let me out! Please, please for the love of all things holy, let me out! You can't leave me alone with this-this-", he glanced over his shoulder, just in time to somersault away from the giant hand that descended upon him.  
And found himself backed into a corner.  
Huddling, he tried to vanish into the wall, even as Paddywhack closed in on him.  
"I had a lot of time to think, you know. And I came up with a whole new game. Would you like to play it with me?"  
Quackerjack, horrified beyond belief, shook his head vividly. The abomination gave a wide, sinister grin.  
"Too bad. Because it's really fun. At least for me."  
His head grew to uncanny proportions, even as his mouth opened into a gaping, hellish red abyss. In Quackerjack's tear-rimmed eyes, the sharp, inch-long fangs reflected, even as the enormous jaws closed around him.  
A scream, torn from the very depths of his soul, echoed through the room, just before he was swallowed whole.  
He could feel the milling motions of the mouth, how the oesophagus constricted him, adjusting to his body, then he fell into a bottomless, pitch-black pit. He landed surprisingly soft; the ground beneath him moving, flexing, covered with -fur?  
Paddywhack reached for his front and opened a door in his gut. A second later, Quackerjack was jettisoned out the monster's belly courtesy of a boxing glove adjusted to a spring.  
"That was fun!", beamed Paddywhack, as he reached down and grabbed the barely conscious Quackerjack by the scruff of his neck.  
"Let's do it again."

Outside the padded cell, Morgana and Quiverwing watched the toymaker with mixed feelings.  
Quackerjack was huddled in a fetal position on his bed, blank eyes staring into nothingness. Only the occasional twitch or hitched gasp conjured that he was, in fact, still alive.  
The two onlookers turned away from the sight, Quiverwing asking;  
"How long will he stay like this?" Morgana shook her head.  
"It's difficult to tell. The hypnosis was not that deep, and the hallucination spell I put on him has already worn off. Once he has come to accept his fate and the horror loses its dread, the images will quickly fade."  
Quiverwing looked at her.  
"So, what time frame are we talking about here?" Again, Morgana shook her head.  
" I don't know. A couple months, perhaps a couple years, who's to tell?" 

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 _This is one of the more unsettling chapters of this fic -but by far not the most disturbing one I've ever written, trust me. Still, there's one more Fearsome Felon to go, so who's to say, what might happen..?_


	8. The light beyond the dark

It is done; the final chapter to this sad, twisted story. Again, be warned, for the end contains some graphic violence, which might make the more squeamish among you a little uneasy. Still, it is a necessity to understand the thoughts behind our favourite hero/ines' scheme. Item, enough stalling and on with the last installment.

Enjoy, and don't forget to R&R!

Disclaimer: I don't own one single bit in this except for the plot. All rights are Tad Jones and Disney, without any financial profit whatsoever

Warnings: PG-13 for some graphic details and character death

Summary: A scheme by the Fearsome Five leads to a tragic loss, which affects the entire Darkwing family. How will they cope?

DWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDW

 **Beryllium Flowers**

Vll _The light beyond the dark_

Bushroot gasped, then sucked in lungs full of air. Tossing away the remains of the plastic bag he had been wrapped in, he let his gaze roam the scenery.  
Emptiness.  
A vast expanse of brownish green grass and some lonely scattered shrubs greeted him. A solitary hut, that stood a few meters to his right, and was adorned with a battery of solar cells and a tiny excuse of a chimney, just helped to accent the loneliness of the dry-lands. Beyond that desert, line upon line upon line of snow-capped mountains loomed into the ash-grey sky; encasing the entire plateau.  
Soft steps alarmed Bushroot; as he turned his head to the left, he saw Morgana approaching. He swallowed his gasp, but couldn't stop the rustling of his shivering leafs.  
"Welcome to your new home, Doctor Bushroot. Please do make yourself comfortable, for you are going to be here for a very long time."  
Wary, the duck-turned-plant eyed his captor.  
"Comfortable? Where, here? There's nothing here", he stated, his arm including the dreary scenery.  
Morgana gave a smile, just a hint broader than a razor's edge.  
"Which is precisely the point why we brought you here. Your task will be, to reforest the entire plateau. Once you're done, you're free to return back to St. Canard."

Bushroot's eyes had widened to almost three times their size, his beak moving soundlessly. With an elegant gesture Morgana pointed to some sacks a few feet away from where they stood near the shack.  
"You will receive every week a load of mulch or fertilizers. We have already prepared the seeds and saplings. Don't be worried, though, we made certain that they're all plants native to the area and capable of surviving the harsh weather conditions."  
By now, Bushroot was bristling with rage. Glaring at the mage, he bit;  
"What's to stop me from -ack!"  
A single flick of her pinky and Bushroot found himself encased in Saran wrap. Squirming, fighting against the bonds, he growled,  
"What-unh! -what's to stop me to-urgh-just make my -way through the..mountains, once-nnggh! you turn your back?"  
This time, Morgana's smile was truly devious.  
"Go ahead, be my guest. There is but one single pass leading to this plateau, which nine out of twelve months is buried beneath concrete snow and ice. But if you think your metabolism is capable of handling ice rain, blizzards and temperatures way below 25 degrees minus, go ahead. I'm certain, the sun will thaw you up in summer."  
Bushroot thought about this for a moment, then let his sky-blue eyes fall on the mage.  
"It's surrounded by a magic circle, isn't it?"  
Morgana merely smirked.  
Bushroot hung his head in defeat.  
"Fine, I'll..I'll do it. It's not as if I had a choice, is it?"  
This time, Morgana's smile held a small amount of warmth. Patting his shoulder, she replied,  
"Don't worry, Doctor Bushroot; considering your powers and knowledge, I'm sure you will have finished your task within two or three years. Oh, and just for your comfort..." she snapped her fingers and a large, plastic-wrapped bundle of undefined shape appeared next to the hut. A flicker of a digit, and the wrappings came off to reveal-  
"Spike! Oh, my dear, dear Spike! How much I missed you!" exclaimed the scientist, as he patted and embraced the dog-like Venus Fly trap. Morgana watched the reunion, then turned around.  
"I will leave you to your work now," the witch spoke over her shoulder. Out of nowhere, a helicopter appeared in the sky. Even as Bushroot gazed at the vehicle, Morgana stepped into a cabin that had not been there seconds ago. Facing him anew, she let a twisted smile mar her exquisite features.  
"You might want to get to work now. Winter will be here soon."  
Bushroot watched the magic cabin elevate, until it disappeared inside the waiting chopper.

 _Epilogue_

It was more of a croak than a cry.  
Still, it carried enough pain to make one's skin crawl.  
At least it left Quiverwing with goosebumps.  
Swiftly moving across the main hall, the heroine crossed the bulk of the secret hideout to the hidden vault beneath Darkwing's beloved paravent.  
Once the door was secured, Quiverwing turned to where Morgana stood before a slab.  
An occupied slab.  
A slab carrying a rather familiar figure bound securely to its frame.

Negaduck braced himself, but couldn't help the whimper that wedged itself past his clenched teeth, as the mage cut into his exposed chest, pulling off an inch-long piece of skin and feathers from his body.  
Immediately, Morgana cast an instant healing spell, which closed the wound and restored the missing tissue.  
Quiverwing cringed, as she moved closer, removing her grey hat and cape.  
"You really are enjoying this, aren't you, mom?" she asked timidly, not daring to look too close at what the beautiful sorceress did to their arch-nemesis.  
Morgana smiled.  
"Immensely", she purred, even as she ripped a handful of plumage from Negaduck's naked belly.  
This time, the nemesis howled, as loud as his strained voice would allow him to.  
Again, the mending chant caused new feathers to sprout in the removed ones' place.  
"After all, if it hadn't been for him, all of this wouldn't have happened and we would still be a happy family."  
Quiverwing made an agreeing noise, as she took off her gloves and set them next to her neatly folded purple cape.  
"Dr. Bellum told me to lower the dosage of my supplements. Even she was surprised, how well my body adjusted to dad's implants."  
Morgana nodded, as she mused, which part of her prisoner to attack next.  
"Indeed, Dr. Bellum did perform a miracle on you. Though, considering that she tried the treatment on herself first, it's not that surprising. Yet," the mage glanced lovingly at Quiverwing's enlarged beak and strong chin, "the resemblance is uncanny."  
The younger woman smirked.  
"Not to mention, I inherited several of dad's abilities and character traits."  
"Minus the ego", they chorused, then chuckled.

Negaduck, watching the conversation from his prostate position, sobbed in despair, as he realized, that he would be spending the rest of his life imprisoned in perpetual agony, since there was no way the two women would let him free, now that he knew their secret.  
His wail drew the mage's attention, as she let one finger roam slightly above his abused form, then asked,  
"Would you like to give it a try?"  
Quiverwing shook her head vividly.  
"No-no thanks, I'm really not into that kind of -torture", she admitted.  
Morgana smiled.  
"You're really taking after your father" she said.

The she tore another strip of skin off of Negaduck's shin.

finis

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 _And thus ends this little story. I hope you enjoyed it, despite its bumps and flaws, and will return for my other stories. Take care, have fun and remember to enjoy life._

 _Felidae_


End file.
